A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.

"So what's the plan, chief?"

MacCready turned to look back at Bleach. Chum was resting at Barney's house, which left him with only Bleach and Bucket to transport what looked like fifty VIPs. He'd had to escort a few people every now and then during his time with the Gunners, but the difference there was that the Gunners always outnumbered their escort. This wasn't just difficult; it was basically impossible. What was it that had made him agree to this again?

He ignored Bleach's question, and turned towards the crowd.

"Anyone good with a gun?" He shouted. "Got ammo? Weapons? Anything?"

He got nothing but silence and confused looks. One of the people stepped forward. She was wearing a lab coat, and it was spattered with dirt and maybe blood. He wasn't sure what the rustic color was.

"…We're scientists, not soldiers." She finally said.

"Yeah so was the guy that made the atom bomb." MacCready said. "There has to be some way that you all got here in one piece. The Commonwealth is too unforgiving for you all to have snuck out in the cover of darkness."

He hesitated. Asking this very question felt like intentionally drawing bile up from his gut. But it needed to be asked.

"…Do you have any security personnel with you? You know…Synths?"

The scientist lady looked at him, and then turned towards the crowd.

"We have a few Gen-Is. And there's a Gen-II, but he's missing an arm." She pointed to the group. The Gen-II was busy trying to tinker with the wiring that was sticking out of the Gen-I Synths. There was something incredibly creepy about the plastic face and lifeless expression on that thing's face. At least the Gen-Is were obviously robots. And sure enough, the Gen-II had its right arm missing. There were signs of battle damage on all of them.

"Nothing else?" MacCready asked. "Nothing bigger? No Coursers?"

"No." The scientist said. "I don't think a single Courser got out of the Institute. They died fighting those terrible people that destroyed our home."

MacCready bit his tongue, ignoring the fact that it was the very existence of the Institute that had determined its destruction. He just shook his head, and looked through the crowd.

"You don't need to know my name." He began. "And I'm not gonna mince words to any of you." He cleared his throat. He glanced out the window, and checked the watch that Blue had given him (after setting it in correspondence to the internal clock on the Pip-Boy 3000 strapped to his wrist). Still some time before sunrise…and the first Brotherhood patrol. "Any stories that you've heard about the Commonwealth? Wasn't an exaggeration. This place is meaner than any of you, and it already hates you because of what you stood for and represented."

"But we were trying to save humanity!" The woman said. MacCready just glared at her. He was young, but MacCready had seen the sorts of things that an isolated academic like this woman could never understand or fathom. It was the kind of glare that silenced even the hardest of people.

"That's irrelevant." MacCready said. "The entire Commonwealth would rather see you all burn." He said, lowering his voice to a whisper on that last line. And then he spoke up. "It is my job to get you all to the south. There's an old fort on the waterfront. The Castle. That's the home of the Minutemen. That's your safe haven."

"But the Minutemen destroyed our home! Why would we go with them" One person shouted in the back. There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the crowd.

"Because your other alternatives are trying to last here in this old church with no food, water, or defense, waiting for the Mirelurks to break in…or you take your chances with the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood will kill you. At least the Minutemen will listen to you before they decide your punishment, if any at all."

He couched his words carefully. Blue had been adamant that he not say a single thing that revealed that he was connected to the Minutemen. If even a slightest rumor leaked out, then Maxson and the Brotherhood might freeze the talks altogether. Needless to say, this was the most important job in the Commonwealth, and he was the most important man in the world.

And all he had to do it with were a few broken Synths and two others.

"Look, I'm not gonna pretend that I like you. The Institute has a bad rap, and the fact that you never explained yourselves doesn't help. But I'm not a monster. And I won't see helpless people rot in an abandoned building." MacCready pulled back the action on his sniper rifle, ejecting a spent shell casing and getting everyone's attention with the sharp clack sound in the night. "And I'm getting you out of here." He turned to Bleach and Bucket. "Go through the crowd, see if there is anyone injured. See if there's anyone that's sick. Two muntes, tops. Go."

He walked over to the Gen-II Synth.

"Can any of them fire weapons?" He asked. The Gen-II turned to face him and stared blankly.

"Units 03-995, 03-994, and 03-993 are not authorized to handle firearms." The Gen-II said. "They are equipped with the standard issue electro-baton."

Great. That basically left him.

"What about you?" Can you fire a gun?"

"Affirmative. However, the loss of my arm has rendered my equilibrium unstable."

"A machine pistol it is, then. Just point and spray." MacCready said. He turned to the crowd of people. "Can I get a guarantee that this thing isn't going to just plug me in the back as soon as I give it a weapon?" He asked. One of the scientists walked over, and stared the Gen-II in the eye.

"Unit T-1139. Authorization code Alpha-Bravo-Charlie." He said. "This man here is an authorized director. Follow his instructions to the letter, unless otherwise ordered by him."

MacCready watched the vacant look in the thing's eyes only grow more pronounced, and he shuddered. The idea of overwriting something's coding like that seemed like it was rewriting one's own personality. One's own self. He wondered if there was ever a danger of that happening to that fusspot Danse. Blue had made it damned clear that Danse was no one to be afraid of. So MacCready was willing to trust him. Even if he never got along with Danse.

But then again, trusting Blue was what got him into this suicidal mission in the first place, so maybe the General's judgment wasn't bulletproof.

He took the submachine gun he'd slung to his hip and tossed it to the Gen-II. The machine stared at the weapon quizzically, and then nodded.

"We've got 50 people total." Bleach said. "A few surface cuts here and there, but there isn't anyone that can't walk or thinks that they can't run."

"Good." MacCready said. "I'll be on point. Give me the women and kids under eighteen. The men go with the two of you. Three groups. We move intermittently. I take point, and I'll signal with this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled up fabric. It was an old American flag. Blue had found the thing. When MacCready had asked him where he'd found it, Preston (who'd accompanied Blue), just started laughing and mentioned something about Jamaica Plain. It was also the only time that MacCready had ever seen Blue seriously annoyed with something. Like, he'd been the victim of the world's biggest anticlimax.

"When we get in sight of the Castle, then we clump together."

"And what about the Commonwealth and the Brotherhood?" Bucket asked. MacCready sighed.

"Just pray to whatever god you think cares…and hope that we don't run into any of them."

"We could come in with your Vertibirds in full force, and just open up with the miniguns."

"Out of the question. I don't intend to destroy this city in order to save it, Mayor. You're not much a soldier, are you?"

"Nope. Just an elected official. What do we know about warfare?"

"Enough that your type tended to boss soldiers around quite frequently back in the old world."

"Heh. I like this Proctor of yours, Elder. Her jokes have some legs."

"…Hancock, that was really mean. You need to apologize at once."

"What? Are you suggesting that I was making fun of the fact that most old-world politicians are lamer than Proctor Ingram's legs?"

"Hancock!"

"No, no. It's *snicker* pretty funny. I'll give him that one."

"Can we please get back to work?"

Elder Maxson's annoyed outburst shook Piper out of her reverie. She'd been watching that volley go back and forth between Hancock, Proctor Ingram, and Preston so much that she'd forgotten to write anything down. Truthfully, she was surprised that the Ghoul was even getting away with half of the things that he was saying to the Brotherhood. If anything, the only thing that she could conclude was that there was some sort of deity that watched over crazy, drug-addled Ghouls…and the sheer audacity was the only thing saving him. Maxson wasn't really enthused by any of Hancock's jokes…but it was clear that Ingram found some degree of humor in them.

Also, Hancock was their ticket into getting soldiers safely quartered in Goodneighbor, which was a lot deeper into the Commonwealth than the airport or the Prydwen. So perhaps they were humoring him for the sake of keeping their potential postings in Goodneighbor.

They were all staring over a map of Quincy. It was laid out over the table, and Piper was really impressed with the detail. Somehow, someone had been able to sketch out an accurate rendering of the city grid, and through the use of some game pieces the Brotherhood and Minutemen elite were getting a proper feel for the placement of enemies in the area. The sight of the little green plastic men on the table was pretty funny, but considering Maxson's tendency to get angry Piper was terrified to make any note of it.

The fact that the Elder was staring at the board with utmost seriousness about the whole affair without at least chuckling over the fact that they were playing with little plastic figurines was only making it harder for her not to laugh.

"There's a near-unending supply of raiders that seems to float towards Quincy." Preston said. "They're not the real danger, other than the fact that they're stupid and poor in tactics but equipped with big guns. The Gunners that hold the southern half of the city are the ones that are really the problem."

"I've heard rumors." Elder Maxson said, breaking his reverie. "That the Gunners are as good as they are at holding territory because they have prior experience in defending the Commonwealth. That they were once Minutemen before betraying the cause." He stared pointedly at Preston. "Is that true?"

Preston stared at the Elder, and it was clear from the scowl on his face that it was an open wound for his pride.

"They were traitors." Preston said. "They betrayed the principles of the Minutemen."

"And yet it appeared that the majority of the standing force of the Minutemen went with them to Quincy and decided to stay there." Maxson said. "So were they really betraying the cause, or were they the accurate representation of what the Minutemen believed at the time?"

Preston was silent, but Piper had never before seen the cold fury that was now clear in the Minuteman leader's eyes.

"I'm not suggesting your own conviction is suspect, Mr. Garvey." Elder Maxson said. "I'm simply stating a fact: with the exception of recent actions, the Minutemen weren't exactly the most reliable group in the Commonwealth. The Brotherhood of Steel has never had such issues."

"And I assume the Outcasts in the Capital Wasteland are to be forgotten?"

Everyone turned to face Blue. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet the majority of the afternoon, instead choosing to quietly take a sip from his bottle of Nuka Cola Cherry throughout the meeting. Arthur Maxson turned towards Blue, and he looked positively offended.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"The Outcasts that were brought back into the fold of the Brotherhood after the death of Elder Owyn Lyons?" Blue asked. "Doesn't that prove that the Brotherhood has had issues with keeping their ranks from splintering?"

Maxson was silent, clearly stewing in his seat. Blue shrugged.

"I'm not saying that the Brotherhood is bad because they had a schism within their ranks; I'm just saying that it's unfair to accuse the Minutemen of being unable to keep their house in order without recognizing that you've had that issue too."

Maxson was silent, but the fact that he was silent proved the point that Blue was trying to make.

"Let's get back to the point." Proctor Ingram said. "We need to figure out how to get into that city. The north is the only way in, and I don't think anything short of a full frontal assault is going to get anyone out."

"I don't want to lose any more Vertibirds." Maxson said. "We've suffered too much damage just flying past that city."

"Then perhaps the best course of action is an ultimatum." Blue said. "Send fliers into the city. Warn anyone that wants to get out that this is their last chance."

"And what happens to those that we can't get out?" Elder Maxson asked. Blue shrugged.

"Then we fight." Blue said. "If they're so willing to die over what's left of that city, then we can oblige them."

"You sound like you're suggesting that we need to level that city." Maxson said.

"Perhaps not level, but at least soften it up so that the ground troops can get into the buildings and start driving them out building by building." Blue said.

"If you want a massive first punch, we have Liberty Prime on standby." Elder Maxson said.

"No." Blue said. "I think there's been enough radioactive fallout around here. There are other ways to soften the defenders up."

"You mean our artillery?" Preston asked. Blue smirked.

"I mean our artillery."

Maxson once again smiled, and Piper shuddered as she once again thought of how similar he looked to a smiling Deathclaw.

The sun was starting to set on the longest day of his life. MacCready checked to make sure that his rifle was fully loaded, and slowly peered out from around the corner. There was an old convenience store in front of him, but it was clear that it was occupied. He wasn't sure what it was, but considering the smell of blood hanging in the air, there was something that wasn't friendly.

He glanced back behind him. He knew that there were roughly fifty people behind him, all pressed low to the ground and praying that nothing would see them. MacCready didn't have the luxury of time; the longer they were all out in the open, the longer something disgusting and awful was going to smell them and have a hell of a dinner. It was just by the grace of fate that he'd managed to get them all out of "Deathclaw Country," as the bitter citizens of Outpost Zimonja referred to the northern Commonwealth, without finding any of those beasts. But that didn't mean that there weren't still some Deathclaws hidden elsewhere. This was the Commonwealth after all.

There was a noise coming from the shop. MacCready whirled back around and pointed his rifle towards it. The door to the shop opened, and he watched with a sinking pit in his stomach that there was a Super Mutant that had staggered out of the building. That meant that there were others in there, no doubt. But then he saw something in the Super Mutant's arm.

Cradled in its left arm was a mini-nuke.

MacCready looked back towards the Super Mutant, and then towards the others that were hiding behind him. Bleach and Bucket did a good job of disgusing and hiding the others, even the kids. But he hoped that they were all properly protected, because MacCready was about to do something incredibly stupid.

He popped out of cover, raising his rifle. He peered down the scope, and shouted.

"Hey, ugly!"

The Mutant turned to face him, and growled when it recognized that a human was shouting at it. It pressed a button on the warhead in its hands, and soon that hellish beeping began.

But MacCready had been counting on that. As soon as he saw the red light flashing, he fired.

The bullet struck the Super Mutant somewhere in the crook of its elbow, right at the nerve. The beast roared in pain, and turned to clutch at its damaged arm. But in doing so, it dropped the mininuke. The Mutant barely had enough time to realize what it had done when the blasting cap struck the ground.

A terrific explosion lit up the night sky. It blew out the front of the building save for parts of the wall, and gave MacCready a good view of the interior. There were four other Super Mutants in there, all of them stunned or seriously injured by having a mini-nuke go off in their face. He knew he needed to make each shot count. So he did. Four shots later, he heard the clicking of an empty clip of bullets…and four more dead Super Mutants with bullet holes where their eyes used to be.

He cautiously stepped forward, and then whipped his rifle around towards the sound what ended up being nothing. He gingerly poked the remains of the Super Mutant berserker that he'd shot first, and then cleared the building. He took out the flag, and clipped it to the wall, up on the second floor of the shop. Within moments, he saw people coming out from hiding and sprinting towards the ruined shop. Bleach and Bucket were on crowd control, ordering the women and children to hide in the area of the shop that hadn't been reduced to rubble. The men were to be out in front, with the Synths standing in front of them as a sort of barrier.

MacCready did a brief headcount, and then sighed. The sun was at high noon now. There was no point in traversing the Commonwealth at dark, when the real uglies came out to play. So he ordered them all to hunker down. He knew that they were a day's travel from the Castle. Maybe. If they were lucky.

They'd gotten lucky today. But he wasn't sure that they'd get lucky tomorrow.

Danse had a strange feeling that something was up. The first thought was that the Minutemen detachment that had been sent out to investigate a nearby shipyard hadn't returned yet. And the second was the thought that Shaun was out playing somewhere outside the Castle walls. He'd been pretty adamant that the boy stay inside the Castle while his father was gone, but Shaun was…persistent. Danse had relented, as long as Shaun promised to stay out of sight.

Cait was walking past him, in the middle of her round (grumbling with every step), and then noticed his puzzled expression.

"You okay there, fusspot?" She asked, with a little smirk on her face. Danse had given up trying to tell her to call him by his name. Cait had developed this rather annoying habit, since kicking drugs, of coming up with little nicknames for everyone. They usually weren't that nice…or at least his wasn't. He was many things. But a "fusspot" was not one of them.

"I don't know." Danse said. "I'm just on edge about something."

"Is it the fact that we got the lunkhead out and about?" Cait asked. Despite himself, Danse chuckled. Yes, she was right: he was also slightly worried about letting the Super Mutant Strong mull about the Castle grounds and especially leaving his sight. The abomination was due for a blowup at some point, even though the General seemed to trust him…for whatever reason.

"Perhaps. But maybe if we're lucky he'll step on a landmine while trying to find the milk of human's kindness." Danse muttered. Cait howled with laughter.

"Shite, I don't know what's funnier: the fact that you told a joke or that it was actually funny!" Cait crowed. "Not bad, fusspot. You're really blowing up since becoming the in-house leader of this old stone hall."

At that moment, an explosion rocked them. When they recovered, they saw that one of the houses just outside the Castle had gone up in flames. Several Minutemen were actively fleeing the area.

"We're under attack. Put the Castle on high alert!" Danse shouted. Cait nodded, and raced over to the siren in the center of the compound.

"WAIT!"

They both turned to see one of the Minutemen running up. He looked like hell. His eye was swollen shut, and he was bleeding out of the corner of his mouth. He staggered to the ground, and Danse caught him in his arms.

"Don't…trigger the alarm." The man whispered. "He wants to talk. Or else he'll kill the boy."

Danse felt ice in his gut, and rather unceremoniously dumped the Minuteman on the ground as he raced for the source of the explosion.

Being out of Power Armor made it feel like it took forever to travel, and Danse was panting heavily as he reached the destroyed house. He looked around.

"Shaun?" He shouted. He reached for his hip, and drew the dinky little pipe pistol that he'd remembered to clip to his belt. "Shaun!"

"That's far enough."

The voice was ice-cold and emotionless. Danse felt his blood run cold, and he whirled around towards the source, pointing his gun in the direction of the voice.

Shaun was on his knees, his eyes wild with fear. A pistol was pressed hard against the back of his skull. The man who held the pistol was dressed in dark clothing, a black cloak that reached down to his ankles. It was tattered and torn, but still wearable. The man's eyes were shaded in dark glasses. His skin was brown, and his face expressionless. But Danse finally found his voice.

"Don't hurt the boy." He said.

"I will not hurt the boy. But I will kill him." The man said. "Whether it is done right now or later depends on your cooperation."

"Who are you?" Danse shouted.

"I am Institute Courser Model X6-88." The man said. "I was designed to hunt down escaped Synths. This boy is one of them."

"But I'm not a Synth!" Shaun cried out. He then cried in pain as X6 forced the gun harder into the back of his head.

"Be quiet." X6 intoned.

"Let the boy go, or I will tear you limb from limb." Danse snarled.

"Unlikely. Your muscle mass is not enough to cause that kind of harm to my frame." X6 said. "Your words are as empty as this boy's future. Now, you will help me with my mission. My mission is to defend the Institute, or, seeing that it was destroyed, avenge it. I have hypothesized that there can be only one man that did this. Where is the son of Father?"

"…What?" Danse asked.

"Where. Is. Father's son?" X6 sounded quite angry now. "I did not massacre that patrol of Minutemen in the shipyard only to discover that the traitor is not here. He is here. The likelihood is 97%."

"He isn't here." Danse said. He wanted to fire his gun, but he didn't want to hit Shaun. He couldn't bear to take that risk. A pipe pistol simply wasn't accurate enough, even at this range. And it was nothing compared to the weapon in X6-88's hand. It looked like a massive pistol, similar to the one that the General strapped to his chest. And it was clear that X6 fired this gun.

"Do not lie to me. This boy is here. The boy was designed to get a reaction out of Father's son. The fact that he is here suggests that the man I am looking for is here."

"X6-88, the boy has done you no harm. Let him go." Danse said.

"You may try to bargain with me, but unlike you I do not feel remorse or sympathy." X6-88 said. "I was designed to be a Courser. I hunt for the Institute. And if the Institute is gone…then I shall hunt for sport."

Shaun was starting to cry now. Danse so desperately wanted to get his hands on the monster that was tormenting this boy so much, but felt completely helpless. And then he said it.

"Take me instead."

X6-88 actually raised an eyebrow.

"And what purpose would that serve?"

"The boy is not a Synth. You are mistaken." Danse said. "But I am. I am M7-97. I didn't know that I was one…but I am." He said. "I believed for my whole life that I was a man from the Capital Wasteland who went on to fight the Brotherhood…but I know now that that is a lie. Whether it was by my own choice or not…I escaped and lived the life I've lived. But take me instead. I will lay down my life for that boy." He stared X6-88 in the eye. "Spare him, and I will go." He dropped his pistol.

There was a loud bang, and Danse fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. The bullet had most likely missed anything vital, and had been a clean shot…but it hurt like hell. He heard a scream. It was Shaun, who was sobbing hysterically. Through pained eyes and gritted teeth, Danse saw X6-88 pistol-whip Shaun to the ground. The Courser stepped callously over the boy's body, and then pointed his gun towards Danse.

"An unwise policy to disarm yourself in front of a Courser." He said. "No more debate. I'm going to kill you now, since you cannot help me. And then I will kill the boy. And then I will find his 'father,' and kill him for killing my Father."

Danse heard the shotgun rack, and barely had time to turn before the roar of the gun knocked him to the ground. The shot caught X6-88 in the side, shredding his jacket and scattering his gun to the ground. His glasses had been knocked off, and Danse got a look at the steel-grey eyes that had been behind them. It was then that Danse heard a banshee-like shriek, and Cait leapt over him, landing a wicked right cross to X6's jaw. The Courser staggered, but recovered and hit Cait back. He was bleeding and one of his arms seemed to be covered in buckshot, but he was still standing. Back and forth Cait and the Courser traded blows and blocks. Danse took the opportunity to crawl over to Shaun. The boy was clutching his face, sobbing in pain and fear. Danse managed to grab him, and pulled him close.

There was a cracking noise, and Cait staggered back, clutching her nose. X6-88 finished with a ruthless combo across the chest and then the side of the head, and the pride of the Combat Zone went down hard. X6-88 snarled, and pulled out a sidearm: a little derringer.

"You should not have interfered." He spit.

He never noticed the figure that seemed to rise behind him.

There was a roar, but it was unlike any gun ever fired. Danse watched in awe and horror as X6-88 was grabbed by the scruff of the neck, and then lifted high in the air and slammed into the ground. He was twisted awkwardly, a clear sign that his back was broken, but his conquerer was not finished. The beast grabbed X6-88 by the head, and lifted him up off the ground. Danse remembered to shield Shaun's eyes as Strong gouged X6-88's eyes out with his thumbs, and then forced his hands together as hard as he could.

It was a sound like a melon being smashed on the ground.

And then there was merciful silence.

Strong was panting heavily, the blood dripping from his hands. He wiped them off on his pants as best as possible, and then turned towards Cait.

"Redhead, do you breathe?"

"Broke some of…me ribs." Cait gasped, as she staggered up to her knees. "But I felt worse…" Her eye was swelling shut. She turned to Danse, and the concern was clear in her face.

"You okay, Danse?"

"Get me to Doc Fellows in the Castle, and it'll be alright." Danse said. "It's a clean through shot."

"What the hell happened?" Colonel Shaw raced up to them all, several Minutemen elites behind her. "We heard the explosion and then you ran off without mobilizing anyone, Captain, and Christ almighty what happened to him?" She pointed to X6-88's corpse. Some of the Minutemen started to violently retch as they took in the sight of his remains. Danse managed to smile through gritted teeth.

"Strong happened." He said. Colonel Shaw looked at Strong, who shrugged. She shuddered.

"I am glad that you are on our side, Mutant." She said. She turned to Cait and Shaun. "Holy shit, is that the General's son? He's going to need medical attention immediately. As will the rest of you!" She turned to some of the hardiest Minutemen. "Get the boy and Cait here to Doc Fellows. Someone get a Stimpak for Captain Danse here. Move!" She grabbed Shaun from Danse, and led the troupe back to the Castle for emergency medical treatment. Danse felt the numbing sensation of the Stimpak take hold, and thanked the Minuteman for the boost. He'd be okay until he got real attention.

He staggered back up to his feet. Strong was still standing there, gazing off into the distance. Finally, Danse spoke.

"…Strong?" He asked.

Strong turned to him, and looked somewhat surprised that the man was still there. He tilted his head to the side.

"What is it, tin can?"

Danse ignored the nickname that Strong had fashioned weeks ago as an insult, and sighed. Though the pain was pretty high, Danse was able to speak coherently.

"Why…why did you do that?" He asked. "I'm not complaining, but…"

"Will little man breathe?"

"What?" Danse asked.

"Will little man breathe? Strong not know."

"Yeah…" Danse said, deciphering what the Super Mutant said. "Shaun will be alright. He just got scared pretty bad is all."

"…Strong glad to hear that." The Super Mutant said.

Danse nodded, and started to walk away. And then he heard the Super Mutant speak again.

"Tin can."

Danse turned back around.

"Yes, Strong?"

Strong turned to face the captain.

"Little man ask Strong many questions. Strong not like talking. Not enough killing in talking. Strong not like talking to many people. But Strong not mind talking to little man. Little man ask questions about Strong. Tells Strong that Milk of Human's Kindness can be found. Strong like little man."

Strong pointed to X6-88's corpse.

"Him make little man's eyes leak. Strong not like when little man's eyes leak."

Danse could hardly believe what he was hearing. He only managed to nod dumbly, and then Strong nodded in response.

"Tin can?"

"Yes, Strong?"

"Get bullet out of arm. Strong not want to defeat you if you can't fight fair."

At this, Danse laughed. Despite how much it hurt.

"Alright, Strong. I'll heal up. And then we'll fight one day. Just don't eat me."

"…Strong think about it."

A/N: And we're back! Decided to throw in X6-88 in there, but I fucking hated the guy (and the Institute) so I figured I'd give him a rather ignominious way of dying. Like a combination of Khan getting Admiral Marcus in Star Trek or The Mountain getting the Viper in Game of Thrones. (spoilers) And we get signs that, despite the massive amounts of muscle and lack of brainpower, there is a beating, working heart under Strong's massive frame.

I wonder how Blue will react to all of this. He's usually pretty unflappable, yet fiercely protective of his son.

See you next time!